


Pleading with Fame

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF, Sideshow - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Death, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Death, Ratings may change, Scum!au, Swearing, Zombies, splash of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 08:30:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15859968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Criminals are used for sick twisted entertainment. With no memory of how he got here Buck must try to survive in a world specifically designed to kill him. Nasty weather, zombies, bears and gangs only being a fraction of his problems. SCUM!au





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prologue:
> 
> SCUM is a popular worldwide “game” show, broadcasted live 24 hours a day, everyday. Pitting the worst of convicted criminals against each other to survive in a deadly environment. 
> 
> Earning fame points depending on their performance and skill, prisoners can gain benefits ranging from airdropped supplies to wild predators being repelled. 
> 
> The more someone dies in Scum the worse shape they come back in.
> 
> The lower the fame the worse the awakening. 
> 
> Punished for their lack of ability to survive.
> 
> Buck has just reawakened having died so much his fame points were in the negatives. With no memory he has to rediscover everything and everyone that is SCUM.

Buck jerked awake with a wheezing gasp. Coughing wetly as his lungs felt like they were burning. His entire body jerking and twitching, feeling as if he was submerged in icy cold water. He could barely register the droplets of rain delicately landing on his face. Violent coughs wracked through his body, his eyes watering and hot tears mixed with the rain, rolling down to pool in his ears. 

Rolling on to his side Buck curled into a ball, shivering and trying to not vomit from hacking so hard. 

He didn’t know how long he laid like this. His head feeling as if it was splitting open from the inside out. Eyes too heavy to open, he could only hear the gentle pitter patter of rain falling around him. Birds singing in the distance only adding to the noise and hurt his head more. Nose too clogged to smell anything, he could still feel what felt like grass and leaves tickling his nose and cheeks. 

Coughing subsiding enough to breathe a little easier, Buck cracked an eye open with great difficulty. He was so exhausted and in pain he just wanted to sleep. To slip back into blissful unconsciousness where there was no pain. Part of Buck knew that if he fell back to sleep he wouldnt wake up. 

Blearily looking around, Buck could barely move his head, each movement created a ripple of immense pain in his head and neck. 

It was so green Buck thought his eyes may have been damaged. Never seeing so much green in his life. 

And there were trees. So many trees, tall and imposing, looming over his weak body. Large bushy ferns sprouting from their bases followed by moss that crawled up their trunks. 

Letting out a shuddering breath, Buck closed his eyes. Head heavy and cushioned by the soft soil and grass beneath him. 

He needed to move, he needed to do something before his body shut down. He needed to figure out where he was and get home. 

Home...it hurt his brain to think about. Straining his mind he could only grasp loosely at fleeting thoughts and memories, not being able to form any solid base as too who he was or where he came from. Only knowing a name that he had a strong feeling wasn’t his actual self. He had nothing. Anger and distress bubbling up in his chest, it was unfair, he was just thrown into consciousness knowing nothing but pain. Not even being able to comfort himself with warm thoughts of home or a family. 

With a slight burst of energy, he shifted a little, hoping to roll on to his hands and knees but immediately freezing when his muscles and joints screamed at him. A violent shiver traveling through him like electricity. His brain pounding like a drum and his skull too tight. 

Whimpering, more tears spilled out. He stayed prone for a couple minutes before using as much strength as he could muster, rolling himself on to his stomach, before planting his hands on the ground pushing up. 

Letting out a weak wail he balled his fists, nails digging into the dirt. It hurt so bad he could feel himself getting dizzy. Staring at his arms, he vaguely registered his sleeves were a bright orange. Glancing down to see he was wearing an orange jumpsuit. 

His observation was interrupted by another coughing fit shaking his body before vomit forced its way up and out of his body. He had to brace himself, leaning heavily onto his sore arms, lest he collapse into his own puke. 

Crying, Buck forced himself to sit back on his calves, hugging his stomach with his head hanging down. 

The rain was becoming heavier and starting to beat down on his shoulders. Thoroughly soaking him to the bone, his wet curly hair hanging in his face. The sun completely hidden behind clouds that got darker by the second. 

Lifting his head up, he tried squinting through the tears and rain, looking in the direction he couldn’t see when he was laying down. The trees opened up to a clearing and Buck could see the blurry outline of what looked like a house across a wide field. 

The relief that flooded him was quickly squashed when he realized the house was about a mile away. How could he possibly make his way there if he could barely sit up? 

He gazed down dejected, exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders. It was so cold his body shivering nonstop and his arms providing no warmth wrapped around him. He was certain he had something more than a bad fever like pneumonia. 

He yearned for a warm bed with fluffy blankets and feather soft pillows. Anything to soothe the shooting pain from his muscles. Turning his head back to the house Buck stared at it, imagining the warmth and protection it had from the pouring rain. 

Gritting his teeth Buck made up his mind. Prying his arms from his stomach he placed them in front of himself. Putting all his weight on them as he tried standing. 

Immediately white hot pain burned through his arms at the pressure. Gritting his teeth so hard he might’ve chipped a tooth Buck forced himself into standing up.

The blood rushing in his ears and dizziness almost had him vomiting again. It was like he had pulled every muscle in his body, every tremor and shake like a stab. 

He had done it though, he had stood up and he felt triumphant. 

Swaying heavily he brought a hand up to push back his wet bangs. Squinting as his eyes roamed the forest floor for anything he could use as a walking stick.

A few feet away at the base of a tree was a long and sturdy looking branch. Hoping it would be enough support his weight Buck took one unsteady step, chest heaving with haggard breaths. 

Moving slowly towards the branch Buck tensed and froze. There was an unnatural buzzing sound coming from somewhere. Focusing, the noise became a faint whirring sound that was quickly getting closer. 

Frantically looking around with his body rooted in place, he tried to find the source of the sound. Having no where to hide if it meant harm. 

Hearing the sound now directly above Buck snapped his head up. Black spots dotted his vision and his head throbbed but he was to distracted to notice. The object was hovering above him, fans whirring loudly, barely effected by the down pour, and colorful lights blinking on and off systematically. 

It was a drone. 

It was people! They could help him! Throwing his arms in the air Buck tried to get its attention, “Please help me” he tried to beg but all that came out was a choked up croak. His voice failing from either sickness or lack of use. 

Apathetic, the drone only observed him for a couple more seconds before shooting out of the treeline and out of sight. 

“N-no ple-“ he tried to call but was interpreted by more wet coughs. Wheezing to catch his breath, Buck looked around hoping the drone would return or the owner would appear. 

With the rain drowning out all noise and the rushing in his ears Buck groaned when he couldn’t hear or see any approaching help. 

A couple of more steps and a break in between, he finally made it to the tree. Leaning heavily against it, breathing hard. 

Slowly bending down he picked up the branch. Gripping it tightly in both hands he leaned against it and thanked god it didn’t snap on him. 

Slowly but surely he began his painstakingly long journey to the house in the distance. Barely visible with the storming rain. 

~Chapter break~

One and a half hours felt like a life time to Buck. Making his way painstakingly slow to the house. Limping and clutching his stick like a life line. Stumbling and falling to the ground every so often. His knees taking the brute force. 

The house was so close now, Buck imagined a soft glow behind it like it was some holy deity. It was plain blue with two large windows and a dark brown door. 

Getting closer, he stepped on to a cement pathway leading to the door. 

Buck rushed the rest of the way, nearly collapsing onto the porch as he forced his legs up the steps. 

Forehead hitting the door, Buck slumped against it. More coughs tearing through his throat. Lifting a pale hand he gripped the door knob, almost crying when it opened without resistance. 

Falling through, Buck laid in the entrance way, using his legs to kick the door closed. 

Letting himself bask in the moment of rest and silence. 

With a groan he forced himself to sit up, back hitting the door, he stared down the long dark hallway. 

A puddle pooled around him. His clothes dripping wet. He needed to get out of them now. He didn’t want to catch hypothermia if he didn’t already have it. 

Drawing his legs closer he braced his hand against the door to stand. 

Stick in hand, he leaned against the hallway walls as he trudged deeper into the house. 

It was still and silent. The only sounds being his broken breathing and the rain beating against the roof. 

There was a door cracked open slightly on the opposite side of Buck. Pushing through he was met with a bathroom. 

It was small, a cupboard above the toilet sandwiched between the sink and bathtub. A shattered mirror littering the floor with broken glass. 

As carefully as possible Buck took a few steps towards the cupboard. There was probably medicine and a med kit in it. Glass crunched under his shoes. 

Lifting a hand, he gripped the handle of the cupboard pulling it open. 

A black blur shot out, letting out a startled yelp Buck stumbled back, his legs giving out with arms splayed out to catch him as he fell. Glass slicing into his hands. 

A large rat jumped from the cupboard, squeaking as it skirted around the corner and out of the bathroom. 

Back pressed to the wall and sitting in glass Buck flinched, feeling warmth pool around his fingers. Gingerly lifting his hands Buck looked at blood seeping out from around the glass. Trembling he placed them face-up on his thighs and leaned back, head thudding against the dry wall. 

He didn’t know if he could do this. To keep fighting but having little to no strength to do so. Sickness clogging up his lungs and clouding his mind. He didn’t even know how he got to this point. Every memory like static on a television. Maybe he should just sleep it off. Maybe when he woke up again he’d be in a bed, sun filtering through windows as he stretched, bright and refreshed. 

Getting lost in his fantasy his eyes snapped open at the sound of a heavy thud from above. A deep gurgling moan echoing throughout the house. 

Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck, Fuck that he’s seen movies -that he can’t remember- and knows that is definitely some fucking ghost or demon. Abandoned houses were always haunted. 

The gurgling went silent, and Buck strained his ears, listening closely for movement. Jolting when loud heavy steps ran down the stairs. Having no idea where the stairs were located in the house Buck scrambled to get to the bathroom door. 

Glass dug into is knees and his hands smeared blood onto the linoleum flooring. He used his forearms to push the door shut, his whole body shaking as he pressed his body to it. 

The stomping reaching his floor, a blood curdling groan echoed down the hallway and throughout the house. 

Bucks heart was racing, pressing a bloodied hand to his mouth staying as quiet as possible. 

Heavy foot steps dragged across the floor. Each step getting louder and louder before stopping completely.

Right in front of the bathroom. 

Sniff. Sniff. 

Squeezing his hand tighter around his mouth, Bucks other hand slipped between his thighs trying to stop the blood from dripping on to the floor to no avail. 

With a sickening snap of teeth the thing lunged its body against the door. Not stopping till it found the source of blood. Door hinges rattling and strained. 

Letting out a muffled shout, pain shot through his back as the door was rammed into repetitively. 

He screamed when the creature screamed. Hands flying to his ears as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

Abruptly the banging stopped and Buck felt the weight of a body hitting the floor outside the door. 

The silence now deafening. 

Hesitating, he opened his eyes and lowered stinging hands. 

‘Did it-did it die? Or did it tire itself out and pass out’ he thought, breath catching when he heard movement outside the door. 

Something killed it. 

Whatever it was quickly moved away and Buck could hear it searching the house. Running up the stairs before coming back down shortly after. Coming back towards the bathroom. 

Hands shaking he considered grabbing a shard of glass. If he was going to die he rather go down with a little fight. To weak to do any real damage he would have some sort of dignity in tact when he died. 

Reaching for a particularly large shard he froze when a smooth, very human voice called out,

“Is anyone in there? You can come out now, it’s safe, I promise I won’t shoot you.” 

Slightly confused as to why he needed to promise not to murder him, Buck let out a whimper. Everything wrong with him returning with a vengeance now that his adrenaline died down. 

“Pl-please. Help me” he sobbed weakly, voice scratchy and quiet. 

The man muttered something to quietly for him to hear through the door. 

“Hold on, buddy, I’m gonna get you out of there” 

More shuffling and then the sound of a body being dragged away. 

The door knob twisted and Buck felt his head start to bob, his eyelids incredibly heavy. The door barely opening a crack before being blocked, hitting Bucks body. 

“Hey, Bud, I’m gonna need you to move out of the way” The stranger said talking softly. 

The words pierced through Bucks skull. His head pounding as he leant forward sniffling, snot mixing with the blood smeared on his lips and cheeks. 

“I ca-ant. Please help me” he begged. 

“I’m trying but you need to move.” 

Still crying, he felt worse than when he had first woken up. Dizzy now from the blood loss. He couldn’t muster up any strength to move. 

“Please, I need you to move forward just a little and then I can help you.” The stranger persisted sounding concerned. 

“I can’t” 

“Yes you can! Just a little, I know you can do it” this time pressing the door a little more firmly into Buck. 

With a weak sob Buck put his hands behind him and against the door. With a shove he managed to slide forward, the blood and water making it easier. 

Pushing the door open the man stepped in. His eyes widening at the scene before him. Blood, water and glass covered the floor, bloody hand prints decorating parts of the wall. Looking at Buck on the floor he saw what looked like a teenage boy curling into himself, a head of wet curly hair. 

Quickly bending down, he put a hand on Bucks shoulder, forcing him up. Freezing at the sight of his face. 

His face was coated in drying blood and dirt, tear streaks cutting through the mess like a river. He had heavy bags under his red puffy eyes and incredibly pale skin, slight freckles standing out on sunken in cheeks. 

Snapping his fingers in front of Bucks face, he tried getting him to focus. 

“You did great. Can you hear me? Can you tell me your name?” He questioned seeing how Bucks eyes were glazed over and his body swaying dangerously. 

Letting out a curse as Buck slumped forward, he quickly hooked an arm around his shoulders and the other beneath Bucks knees. 

Grunting, he stood up with Buck in his arms quickly exiting the bathroom and heading towards the living room. 

Bucks head was swimming, eyes unable to focus onto the world moving around him. Warmth seeping into his skin as the stranger carried him. 

Whimpering at the loss of warmth as he was set down on soft cushions. Blearily staring at the ceiling and hearing the stranger run towards the stairs, his steps light and graceful unlike the monster. 

Falling asleep at some point buck woke up to the stranger tugging at his jumpsuits zipper, eyes snapping open in panic and flinching away. 

“Woah woah hey calm down. I just need get these wet clothes off of you” the man released him hands in the air. 

Laying back down Buck jerkily nodded letting the stranger continue undressing him. Lithe hands working fast before tugging it down and off his legs. 

Shivering Bucks hand was taken by two soft warm ones. Nimble fingers wrapping them up in bandages before quickly moving to the next. When he was done a soft blanket was wrapped around his body. Tucking him in tight before two more were thrown on to the pile. 

Closing his eyes, Buck felt a damp piece of cloth dabbing at his face. Gently ridding it of blood and grime. 

It was quiet, the rain no longer beating on the roof. Body regaining heat, Buck sighed deeply his eyes. The moment of peace shattered by a fit of coughing that tore at his throat. Twitching at a hand resting on forehead. 

“Damn you’re burning up. Like dangerously so. Hold on a sec, I think I might have something for that” his savior said, quickly slipping into the main hall and disappearing. 

Once his coughing subsided Buck closed his eyes again. Mind slowing as he thought of his hero. He couldn’t even begin to describe how thankful he was to the stranger. He saved his life even going as far as to take care of him. 

......

 

A gentle shake woke him up. Not even realizing he had fallen asleep again but feeling the full force of fatigue. Moaning, Buck stubbornly tried to swat at the hand but his arms were trapped beneath the blankets. 

Ignoring his moans, the stranger kneed down to slide a hand beneath his head gently tilting it up before pressing the rim of a bottle to his lips. 

“I need you to drink this, it’ll help I promise” 

Without hesitation Buck opened his mouth and choked on the onslaught of a bitter liquid pouring in. Spluttering and hacking he glared at the other man, staring at him directly for the first time. 

The only lighting in the room came from the windows. The full moon illuminating the room in a gentle glow. He was wearing glasses that have seen better days. Silky hair side-swept and damp, most likely having been caught in the storm as well. Bucks eyes traveled down his face taking note of a round button nose, full lips and a masculine chin. 

“Shit! sorry sorry I should’ve warned you.” Apologizing and setting the bottle down to quickly wipe at the medicine dripping down Bucks chin. Picking the bottle back up he lifted it back towards Bucks lips. 

“Let’s try this again, okay?” He asked smiling down at Buck. 

“What’s your name?” Buck croaked suddenly. 

Blinking with surprise the other man paused, regrading him curiously. Eyes searching his face for a moment he grinned,

“I’ll tell you if you drink this” 

Bucks glare was about as intimidating as new born babies. Swaddled up and pathetically feeble. Opening his mouth again, he squeezed his eyes closed as more medicine flowed in much slower than last time. 

Pulling the bottle away, he waited a moment for Buck to catch his breath. Pressing it back when his mouth opened again. They did this a few more times until he deemed Buck had enough in his system. Sliding his hand out and settling Bucks head back down. 

Staring at him expectantly Buck sniffed. With a roll of his eyes, his savior capped the bottle of medicine and set it down. Turning back to Buck with his lips quirking up,

“Criken is the name and winning is the game. Nice to meet cha” he said with a strange made up accent, bowing his head. So theatric. 

“That’s a stupid name.” Buck rasped. 

“Wha-well then what’s your name?” Criken questioned, feeling put out by his name being dissed. 

“Buck” 

“That sounds like an old mans name” Criken snarked. 

“You look more like a Benny or something, kid” 

“I’m 20” Buck replied slowly, his eyelids half mast, internally surprised that he remembered his own age. 

“Fuck really? You look like a baby” Criken smiled. 

“Are you hung—“ stoping mid sentence, noticing Buck had fallen asleep. 

Not having the heart to wake him up again Criken stood up and stretched. He’ll keep watch tonight and figure out what to do with Buck in the morning. 

Walking out of the room, he stepped into the hallway and stared at the body of the huge zombie that was trying to get at Buck. He had no idea how he was gonna get it out of here. 

Stepping past it he walked into the bathroom, cringing at the amount of blood he’d have to clean. 

This was gonna be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Criken isn’t exactly the selfless knight in shining armor we thought he was but he’s getting there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet lil chapter for crikboi, gotta let Buck sleep.

Criken knew from the moment he saw Buck stumbling with a walking stick through the rain that he was a recently awakened “unknown.” Orange jumpsuit and clear signs of sickness a dead give away.

The term “unknown” was given to those so low on the charts, they weren’t even considered famous. Having no remarkable traits about them and dying so often, they were useless to the show. Rarely, if the contestant was bad enough, their memories were wiped, the creators hoped every new resurrection would yield different outcomes depending on the environment or situation they were thrown into. If nothing else, they were guinea pigs used to test out new features and weapons. 

He was hiding outside of the house, crouching down in the surrounding field when he saw the figure approaching. Pondering, he wondered if he should leave the kid to his cycle of being an unknown. It was depressing loop of confusion and suffering before inevitably dying some horrible way. Wash rinse repeat. 

Still, he approached closer when the unknown went inside. Stopping when he was underneath a small rectangular side window. It must’ve been the bathroom. Shaking rain off his yellow raincoat and readjusting his backpack, he pulled his sleeve back to check his watch. It was roughly 8 o’clock and he was supposed to meet Tomato at the dam in less than 24 hours. That itself was almost a two day journey if he kept a steady pace the whole way. His map telling him he was in the northern part of district A3 while the dam was way up in D2.

He was running behind schedule because he spent an extra night hiding in an underground bunker to wait out a storm. He’d have to find higher ground to contact Tomato on the radio to let him know he’ll be held up, already knowing he was gonna get a tongue lashing from hell. 

Swiping his finger across the small screen he checked his fame points. Still only second place, he growled slightly. His name glaring at him beneath Lawlman’s. His rival managed to evade Crikens radar for the last couple months. Racking up fame points doing god knows what. What was he doing wrong? He only killed when necessary, participated in show events as often as possible and made sure to charm the drones whenever they checked in on him, never shooting at them unlike his comrades. He was meant to be number one....

maybe it was the cannibalism.

Sighing, Criken just wished Lawlman would make the first move against him. The audience would love a fight to the death between them and he get would get a massive boost in fame as he played the part of a man fighting off his greatest rival to survive. 

Putting his watch to sleep, Criken weighed his options as he listened to the unknown stumbling into the bathroom. On one hand he could walk away and continue on his journey. He had important business that didn’t involve dead weight. On the other hand this could actually work in his favor. He could help the poor kid out, give him the most basic supplies to get his ducks in order, and then ditch him. Just like Santa clause. Audiences were blood thirsty but they enjoyed an act of kindness every so often. 

Lost in his thoughts he jerked at a shriek followed by a dull thud. Perking his head up he guessed the kid slipped on a puddle. Before he could go back to his options he heard another much fainter thud. This one coming from the second floor. Was there another person in there? 

The cry of a zombie answered his question. Well fuck, now he had to help the poor kid out. He’d be a dick if he just left while he got torn apart. Of all the ways to be killed out here, being eaten alive was the worse way to go. Not only that but the commotion and blood would no doubt attract even more zombies to the premisses and he didn’t feel like dealing with that. The things had noses like bloodhounds. 

His hand went for his glock strapped to his thigh but he stopped instead reaching behind, gripping on to the handle of his hunting knife strapped to his lower back. Pulling it out as he crept along the side of the house to the front door. 

The gun would be far too loud and would attract all kinds of attention that he couldn’t fight off alone. Doubting the unknown would be much use in a battle. 

Crouching under the windows and stepping on to the front porch he quietly cracked the door open. The zombie now slamming its self at the bathroom. 

Criken could hardly see it’s hulking frame, eyes adjusting to the darkness but could hear it clear as day, snarling loudly and teeth snapping wildly. 

Too engrossed with breaking down the door the zombie didn’t notice Criken quietly approaching from the side, large hunting knife clutched tightly. Stalking towards it like a silent predator, he struck fast. Stabbing deep into its spine, the zombie screeched and buckled, swiftly he yanked his knife out and drove it through its skull, the sharp tip sticking out the other side. 

Letting go of the handle as the zombie dropped dead, landing hard on the floor. Stepping over it he planted his foot against its neck and pulled his knife out. Wiping the black blood against the zombies ratty shirt. 

He had to secure the building to make sure there were no more hiding around. Survival instincts alert and ready to lash out, he glided through the house checking all the rooms and dashing upstairs. 

Finding nothing he rushed back down and locked the front door before returning to the bathroom. 

“Is anyone in there? You can come out now, it’s safe, I promise I won’t shoot you.” 

 

~Fast forward~

 

Yanking on the zombies legs, Criken struggled to drag its body down the hall. Deciding to stuff it into a closet and pour some bleach he found under the bathroom sink on to it. Hopefully that’ll mask the smell long enough for him to figure his shit out. 

He doesn’t know what came over him. Mind flying into overdrive when he carried Buck into the living room and set him on the couch. 

Seeing such an innocent looking kid in so much pain and agony brought up feelings that he didn’t even think he had in him anymore. 

SCUM forced him to be as remorseless as possible. Forcing him to do terrible terrible things in order to survive. Abandoning morals and compassion to stay at the top of the food chain. Being kind to strangers in SCUM was a death wish and everyone was looking for the right moment to take advantage of a sliver of weakness. 

He’s killed countless men and women without feeling anything except numbness but for some reason his heart just hurt. He couldn’t even decipher the emotions he felt when he bandaged bloodied hands and held Bucks head up to give him medicine. 

It was so foreign and weird to be genuinely worried for someone he didn’t even know. It was all too human for him. All he wanted was extra fame points not a bucket full of emotions dumped on to him. 

In a way, the entire experience was refreshing. Like a splash of life thrown on to a statue. When Buck asked for his name it was the first time in a long time that he wasn’t immediately recognized as a top contender.

Every night at 10 o’clock on the dot, drones would gather high in the sky to project the top 5 most famous contestants. And for the last 6 months his name and face were always up there, broadcasted to anyone looking up. 

The current top 5 were Lawlman, closely followed by Criken, Strippin, Tomato, and finally a guy named Bed that Criken has never once met or seen. He’s run into Strippin before, almost blasting his head off when he didn’t respond to Crikens warning call. They tended to avoid each other. 

Being famous also meant being a constant target or threat depending on the person. Instead of being a afraid of his name Buck had mocked it. Once again refreshing but it made Crikens gut sink, Bucks state of fame might be worse than he thought. 

Finally arriving at the closet at the very end of the hall Criken opened it, attempting to kick the body in but it barely budged. 

Criken was lean and tall but had little amounts muscle. He was built for stealth and agility rather than raw physical strength and power, that was more Tomato’s field anyways. If he didn’t get the drop on his target then Criken fought dirty, not one to shy away from kicking groins or aiming for the eyes. 

Staring at the body, Criken briefly thought of dismembering it but that would be too long and too messy. 

Giving a final kick out of irritation, he didn’t even step over the zombie to get it to the closet, using it like stepping-stool. 

Bending down, he slide his arms under its armpits, grunting loudly as he dragged it in. 

Hitting the closet wall, he wormed his way out from behind the body. With the legs still sticking out he gripped them tightly as he awkwardly forced them in, resting each leg on the space next to the door. 

Ignoring how the zombies legs were in the air and spread wide open he went to fetch the bleach. 

Jug in hand he poked his head in the living room to check on Buck. He was breathing through his mouth a bit unsteadily but other than that he was still swaddled up and out like a light. 

Returning to his task he dumped most of the bottle over the zombie, and closed the door quietly. 

With that out of the way he just had to clean up the bathroom before contacting Tamto. 

Searching the kitchen, he found a broom and dust pan. Grabbing a couple of dish towels just in case he made his way back to the bathroom. 

Pushing the door open he froze just like last time. The sight never getting easier to see and guilt squeezing his heart almost painfully. He should’ve helped Buck sooner, should’ve secured the house before letting him inside. He should’ve done something instead of checking his fame points despite knowing the kid could barely keep himself upright. 

Mad with himself he angrily swept the glass into the dust pan. Dumping the full tray into the bathtub before repeating the process. 

With the glass gone he grabbed one of the dish towels and soaked it in bleach. Scrubbing blood off the floors and walls till his back ached. 

Once done he tossed the towels into the bathtub as well, dumping the rest of the bleach onto them. He was starting to get a bit light headed from the strong chemicals. 

Leaving the bathroom he closed the door behind him before leaning against it heavily, a sigh escaping him. 

He didn’t know what he was gonna do. He couldn’t just leave Buck to die but he also didn’t have the time to nurse him back to health. It also wasn’t safe, if someone were to attack he could handle it but a whole group or herd of zombies meant game over. He couldn’t protect Buck and fight at the same time and he doubted Buck could run. 

With a sigh he checked his watch, it was well past 11pm. The scoreboard already shown for the night. Not even bothering to check his fame he shut off his watch. 

Walking down the hall he checked on Buck once more before moving towards the stairs. Each step silent as a mouse. 

Reaching the top, he dipped into the room closest on his left, closing the door behind him. It had an old dresser and a bed with a toppled over frame. 

Moving towards the window he set his backpack down to the side and pulled out his hand radio. 

Facing the window he forced it open and climbed out. Sitting on the sill, he dangled his long legs off the ledge. He wasn’t very high up but he could look over the field and see the tree line. 

He turned on the radio and lifted it high, trying to reach a signal so he can contact his closest friend. 

It was maybe a year ago when he first met Tomato... he shot him in the face on accident, killing him instantly. All of them still new to the game and jumping at every sound, Criken claims it wasn’t his fault and that Tomato snuck up on him. Tomato wasted half his fame points to resurrect a few miles away so he could stomp his way back. Breaking Crikens nose and demanding his shit back. They stuck with each other ever since, meeting others along the way who came and went but it was always the two of them. 

Green light flashing as he got a signal. Quickly he pressed the talk button,

“Breaker breaker one nine, breaker breaker one nine, got your ears on? Over.” Voice turning nasally and southern as he poorly imitated a trucker. 

“What do you want?” his friend said bluntly, already done with the conversation. 

“Okay rude, I haven’t talked to you in three days and that’s the first thing you say? Over.”

“Bitch, you literally started the conversation with that stupid ass trucker talk. Don’t even come at me.” 

“Sorry what? You gotta say over. Over.” 

“Fuck you”

Criken laughed, chest lighter at the sound of his friends voice. 

He missed him a lot. They split up a month ago, Tomato heading north and Criken heading south, both searching for a secret bunker. There was a rumor circulating around that a bunker had the keys to leaving the game. After weeks of combing the land Criken and Tomato agreed to call the search off, laying the rumors to rest. 

“How’re you doing, Tamto?” He asked after a long pause. 

“Oh I’m real fucking peachy. Yeah reallllll peachy. Never been better.” Something told Criken he was lying. 

“Really?” 

“No! Actually I’m not fucking peachy at all! I’m the exact opposite! I’ve got a leech stuck to my ass and it won’t go away” He shouted angrily 

He must’ve been somewhere safe if he could shout so much. 

“A leech?” Criken asked cautiously not wanting to set Tomato off. 

“Yes a fucking leech. I ran into it yesterday and ever since it’s been following me around asking for food and complaining every fucking minute.”

Oooooh so Tomato found a friend. 

“What’s the leech’s name?” Curiosity peeking. 

“It’s fucking Sput, dude. I thought when he fell off that bridge he’d be done following us around.” Tomato huffed, sounding displeased but Criken knew better. 

Grinning as he swings his legs harder, watching a loose shoelace dangle, he was happy that Sput came back. 

They met him about 4 months ago when Tomato got caught his trap which left him hanging upside down in a tree. Sput had apologized profusely and cut him down when Criken held a gun to his head. He was clever and quick witted though, bargaining to teach them about traps and crafting if they let him live. They forgot about the deal and Sput became a regular in their lives...well before he took a tumble off a bridge. 

“Tell him I said hi” Criken said with a smile, eyes tracing the treeline. 

“Tell him yourself, jackass. You’ll see him tomorrow.” 

Shit. He still hasn’t told Tomato his dilemma. Hesitating, he responded carefully, 

“Uh funny thing about that. I don’t think I’ll make it to the dam by then.” 

“Why the fuck not?” Tomato answered instantly. 

“Errm I don’t wanna say. You’ll yell at me” he said petulantly. 

“I’m gonna start yelling in 5 seconds if you don’t tell me right now” Tomato threatened and Criken panicked. 

“I may have rescued an unknown and now I’m taking care of him till he gets better” he said quickly. 

“...mother fucker WHat? Are you stupid? Why would you do something so stupid if you weren’t stupid!?” 

He knew Tomato was gonna be angry. There were reasons unknowns died so much, they were weak and didn’t know how to survive. Two things Tomato hated most. 

“Look, dude, I couldn’t just leave him! There was a zombie—“

“Oh whoop tee fucking doo! Hear that Sput there was a zombie!” Tomato snarked, his voice rising. 

“AND he was bleeding and sick and I don’t know, at first i just wanted fame points but then I felt bad and my chest got all tight and for some reason I didn’t want to see him to suffer. You should’ve seen him Tomato, it was horrible” he continued, voice cracking as everything poured out of him. 

The radio was silent for awhile, and Criken didn’t know if Tomato hung up on him or lost connection. 

The radio buzzed for a moment silent on the other side before he heard Tomato quietly ask, 

“Where are you?” 

“Northwestern part of district A3 in a blue house” he replied equally quiet. The playful atmosphere from earlier completely gone. 

A loud sigh came from the radio and Criken felt a little bad. 

“We’ll be there in two days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Criknips is a good boi learning emotions and shit. 
> 
> Hit me up if you have any ideas or just wanna chat. 
> 
> Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/no-regretti-spaghetti
> 
> Also help, I don’t know how these foot notes work.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fought me but I think it’s fine???

Too many images flashed before Bucks eyes. Everything was spinning fast, blurring together as colors became one. He saw bright blue skies turn into still lakes blanketed in thick fog. He saw gentle smiles on pretty lips turn into quivering ugly sobs. He saw interlaced fingers ripped apart and dragged away from eachother.

The colors swirled faster as everything mixed, overlapping, becoming muddled and suddenly all too loud. He heard whispers of sweet nothings turn into ear piercing screams of anguish. He heard high pithed giggles overwhelmed by thundering booms. He heard a mischievous voice turn desperate and scared. 

The noises echoed as if in a tunnel before dying off. A blinding white light seeped into the pictures and Buck was left floating in its emptiness. 

Staring into nothing he felt gentle cold hands cup his cheeks as shaky lips pressed lightly against his own. The touch so faint it was ghost like, he could feel himself fading into the white. Distantly he heard a frantic voice calling for him. A voice that made his heart ache in forgotten longing. It got further and quieter as he was pulled away. 

“-n’t forget me...please...find you...i’ll find you, And—” 

It was like faint static, so quiet it was drowned out by the white noise. 

He was sinking now, feeling pressure on his ears and chest. Arms trapped against him as he struggled, unable to swim back up to the voice. 

Back hitting the bottom of nothing Bucks eyes snapped open. 

He was in a dark room staring up at a tan ceiling. Body heavy and arms pressed against him from blankets. Slowly like a trickle of water filling a bowl he remembered what happened before he fell asleep. 

There was a weight on his chest as his throat closed up, a wave of emotions washing over him. The tears fell quietly but quickly. 

His dream left him with fading heart ache and longing while his body reminded him of the fear and pain he had experienced earlier. His consciousness grasping for little bits and pieces as the rest of the dream slipped away like sand through his fingers. 

He was so lost and confused, having nothing to go by expect a few hours of struggling to survive. A broken sob escaped his lips. 

He heard rustling from below him before a body shoot up, rolling to its knees as a gun was cocked, pointing at the rooms archway. 

“What’s wrong!? What is it!?” Criken whisper-yelled, turning his head to quickly glance at Buck then back to the entrance. 

“It-it’s nothing, I just don’t feel good” Buck cried, half telling the truth, more tears flowing out. 

Slowly lowering the gun, Criken slipped it back into its holster on his thigh. Turning to Buck his face softened from its hardened expression. 

“Hey hey hey shhhhh it’s okay, uh please don’t cry” He said lightly, running a hand through unruly curls. Trying his best to comfort Buck but sounding incredibly awkward, his earlier charm and confidence gone. 

“I’m sorry, everything just hurts and I dont know what to do” Buck blubbered, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“What hurts?” Hand moving to Bucks forehead to check his temperature. 

“Everything” 

“You’ll need to be a little more specific than that, buddy, hold on a sec” Reaching over Criken, grabbed his backpack and rummaged around for a moment. 

Buck turned his head and could see a blanket and folded up raincoat on the floor. 

With an ‘ah ha’ Criken presented a small paper packet of pills and a dark red bottle that was different from the one he had yesterday. 

Tearing the packet open with his teeth he dumped them on his palm, holding them up “Okay these should help with the pain and this” he held up the bottle “should help with the fever, I don’t know if that last one was what knocked you out for so long but I don’t wanna take any chances” he rambled, slightly looking off into space thinking. 

“What do you mean?” Buck asked, tears drying as he watched Criken, feeling like he only slept for a couple hours. 

“Huh? Oh uh you were asleep for about...” Twisting his wrist he checked his watch. 

“19 hours. I thought you went into a coma or something.” He sounded a bit perturbed. 

19 hours!? Buck couldn’t believe it, guilt crawling up his throat as he imagined Criken worrying over him for so long and sleeping on the hard floor when he was just a stranger. 

“I’m sorry” he sniffed, hot tears welling up again. 

Eyes widening Criken floundered, 

“It’s fine it’s fine please don’t cry again.” He definitely wasn’t used to seeing this much emotion from anyone. 

Sniffing hard Buck apologized again before trying to blink away the tears. 

“Thank you.” He said sincerely, looking up at Criken with wet eyelashes. 

Criken looked away not knowing what to say. With a cough, he set the medicine down,

“Let’s see if we can sit you up for this. It would suck to choke on the pills.” 

After Buck nodded he pulled the top two layers of blankets down to his hips before untucking the last one gently. 

Buck shivered as cold air hit his bare chest, his bandaged hands still crossed like a mummy. 

A whimper escaped his throat as a hand slide under his back and coxed him into sitting. His muscles still sore but not as bad as yesterday. 

Shifting him so Buck could rest against the cushions, he held the medicine up. 

“Ooookay which one first? Red pill or Blue pill?” Criken asked smiling a little at the reference. 

“What?” 

“Blue pill it is, wait I have a little bit of water to make it go down easier” tugging at a side pocket of his backpack he pulled out a canister and set it to the side. 

“Say ah” 

Opening his mouth Buck felt two tablets placed on his tongue, followed by a pleasant stream of cold water. 

Swallowing greedily he didn’t realize how thirsty he was, whining when Criken pulled the canister away. 

“Red pill next and you can have the rest” He responded to the whines reaching for the dark red bottle. 

“I don’t know what that means” Buck complained. 

“It’s from an awesome movie from the outside world.” 

“You sound crazy” 

“Whatever, this is cherry flavored so should be easy to swallow.” He said lifting the bottle to Bucks lips. 

It was absolutely disgusting, causing Buck to gag as he pulled his head away the second it touched his tongue. 

“You lied this tastes nothing like cherries, its just as bad as the last one” He whined, a chill going through him from the lack of blankets and fever. 

“No it doesn’t, please you have to take this so you’ll get better faster. There’s not a lot of time” Criken said his exasperated and worried tone making Buck duck his head down. 

“Sorry” he replied meekly, looking at a bandaged hand. 

“It’s okay don’t apologize, it’s just not— you’re not...we’ll talk after you take this.” He said hesitating before replacing the bottle. 

Sighing at being forced to take more liquid death, Buck chugged it down fast almost crying in relief when he got rewarded with water. 

Letting him drink his fill, Criken thoughts started to race. He realized he was gonna have to question Buck and figure out just what stage of an unknown he was. Deep down he already knew but he still dreaded the answer. 

Setting the canister down, he helped Buck lay back down this time on his side. Pulling the blankets back up but not swaddling him like before. 

When he was comfortable, Criken sat back down and crossed his legs. Facing him but not looking at him as stared off into space. 

“Are you hungry?” Avoiding the topic Buck was blissfully unaware of. 

The thought of food made Bucks stomach churn and he shook his head. 

Sighing loudly Criken looked down, confusing Buck. Should he have said yes or something? 

Before he could open his mouth to change his answer Criken spoke up, 

“Do you know where we are?” 

Buck could only shake his head again. 

“Do you know how you ended up here?” He pressed on. 

Pausing Buck took a moment to think,

“I remember waking up in a forest in a lot of pain, and walking here” he answered slowly, unsure where this was going. 

“No before that, before you woke up? Do you remember how you got there or why?” Criken asked his voice sounding urgent. 

“N-no I don’t. Why?” Buck was starting to get scared. 

“Buck, please, just think for a moment. Are you absolutely sure you can’t remember anything?” Crikens tone was desperate and panic was welling up in Bucks throat. 

“I don’t! Please stop, I can’t remember anything.” He cried. 

Shoulders dropping in defeat Crikens entire posture sagged. His eye brows furrowed as he looked to the floor. 

“Is this about the monster that was in here earlier?” Buck whispered quietly,

A short dry laugh startled him. Criken was starting to really freak him out. 

“No that was something else, well maybe it was, who knows anymore.” Dragging a hand down his face Criken let out another sigh. 

“You should try getting some more sleep.” He said seemingly done pursuing a conversation. 

“No. I wanna know what your talking about” Buck wasn’t gonna let this go, Crikens behavior was weird but he needed answers. He needed to know what the actual fuck was going on. 

He could see Crikens jaw tighten and loosen. He looked mad. 

“Do you know what Scum is?” Was his question this time. 

“Like grime on showers...?” Hesitating cause he didn’t know where this was going. 

“No not that kind. Scum is a place for the world to dump criminals on. That’s were they fight to survive. Kill and be killed. It’s a game show for the world enjoy.” Criken said blankly now. No emotion whatsoever. 

“That sounds evil.” Buck whispered. 

“Yeah it is. Sometimes people get eaten by those monsters and sometimes it’s by other people. Sometimes they get blown up or shot or stabbed or drowned or crushed. Sometimes they get poisoned or starved or broken or choked or mauled. The possibles are infinite.” Crikens voice sounded lifeless, his eyes glazing over as he recounted all the ways he’s seen people die, including himself. Not that Buck would know that. 

Buck listened on in horror, eyes wide with fear. Why would anyone wanna watch people die so horribly? Didn’t they see how wrong that was? 

He tensed suddenly, something Criken said sticking out. “Those monsters.” The monsters in the game that eat people? The one that tried eating him.... the way Criken promised not to shoot him and the way he pulled a gun like a seasoned vet...were they....

“Are we on Scum?” His voice high and quivering as he silently begged Criken to tell him he was wrong. He waited and waited but Criken stayed silent. 

“Criken! Are we on SCUM!?” He nearly shouted, his voice breaking the tense silence like a brick to a window. Pure unadulterated terror flooding his body as he tried sitting up, eyes frantically looking around for some creature to emerge from the darkness. A throbbing twinge shot up his side making him collapse back on to the couch with a pained yelp. 

Head snapping up in worry, Criken lurched forward, his hands reaching forward to help but not knowing what to do. 

Buck flinched back, suddenly afraid of Criken. 

“D-Don’t touch me!” Voice shrill as he pressed himself into the back of the couch. 

“Buck, please I’m not gonna hurt you. Please calm down” Criken raised his hands high in a pacifying gesture, a hurt look on his face. 

“No! This is fucked up, man! I don’t wanna die, you’re lying right!? This is just a fucked up joke. Stop I’m not laughing,” he broke off into a sob. 

Criken could only watch helplessly, this was the first time he ever had to let someone know they were on Scum.

“You’re not gonna die I promise I’ll keep you safe” Criken almost cringed at making a promise he couldn’t keep but he needed Buck to calm down. 

“Why!? You don’t even know me.” His voice was accusatory and on edge, cheeks flushed red and blotchy. 

“I don’t know! Okay! I’m sorry but I just don’t know.” Criken threw his hands up before bringing them down on to his thighs, bunching them up in his pants. 

Neither spoke, heavy breathing reverberating around the dark room. 

Buck felt nauseous, hysteria making him sick, unable to unpack the information before him. Did this mean he was gonna be killed for someones pleasure? Was he gonna have to kill another person? He couldn’t do that, he didn’t even think he could kill a bug. He still didn’t even know anything about himself much less how to take someone’s life.

Clenching bandaged fingers, he felt them sting as cuts reopened, 

“Criken, why can’t I remember anything?” His voice was barely above a whisper this time but it was thick with a thousand emotions. He felt like a corned animal: vulnerable and afraid. 

Criken bit his cheek, he didn’t know what crime Buck committed to get here but he didn’t deserve this. 

“I’m sorry, Buck. It just happens sometimes.” 

Criken couldn’t tell him the real reason, he didn’t know how Buck would react if he knew he actually died countless times. ‘Baby steps’ he told himself. 

“This is unfair” was all Buck could say. 

“Yeah it is.” 

“I’m sorry”

Criken squinted Buck, confusion written all over his face,

“Why are you sorry?” 

“Because you’re in the same boat as me”

Darkness engulfed them fully, a blanket of tense silence falling heavily onto their shoulders. 

Shifting around, Buck held his hand over the edge of the couch, offering it too Criken. 

Without speaking, Criken took it and held it gently. 

Gun shots could be heard deep in the forest outside but Buck just squeezed tighter. His eyes closed as he focused on the contact, hoping when he opened them next everything would change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit slow and uninteresting but bare (bear??) with me it finna get juicy.


End file.
